Revisited AKA Alone Again
by Kameka
Summary: Dan POV - a little of his past, his present, and just a bit of the aftermath of both. -- Spoilers (for at least the previews) for season two, episode six: "Wham Bam, Thank You, Dan."


Title: Revisited AKA: Alone Again  
  
By: Kameka  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made; don't sue.  
  
Spoilers: If you've seen/read the previews for season two, episode six,  
"Wham Bam, Thank You Dan" - you won't be spoiled. This is speculation based upon  
the spoilers for that episode (i.e., written before it airs.) It is also a  
challenge response - the challenge can be found at the end of the fic.  
  
Notes: Semi edited (was read through by a friend -- thanks Blue -- quickly)  
but I read through and did some edited and spell checked three or four times  
on AOL. Any errors are mine and I apologize for them.  
  
Summary: Dan POV - a little of his past, his present, and just a bit of the  
aftermath of both. -- Possible spoilers (for at least the previews) for season  
two, episode six: "Wham Bam, Thank You, Dan."  
  
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The unsettling click of the cuffs closing around his wrists was unnaturally  
loud in the crowded room, the faint metallic chink drowning out the weary  
rendition of the Miranda Rights that an officer was performing as the world began  
to shift around Dan Lennox. His partner was stridently protesting their arrest,  
proclaiming their innocence in the jewelry robberies even as she was  
handcuffed and Mirandized herself, and the beautiful blonde countenance faded, the  
hair darkening to a windblown brunette style and the skin paling from the  
salon-induced tan to sun-kissed alabaster.  
  
The voices around him faded in, then out, and then in again, this time in  
French instead of English, and the feel of the metal bracelets around his wrists  
transported him to France, the moment of his and Debbie Fairman's arrest. It  
was suddenly her talking, protesting their innocence, chiding police officers  
that they were only American tourists who, admittedly, had a love of art -  
especially some of the gorgeous work done by the great French artists. She was a  
student of art, she slipped in conversationally. A student becoming a thief?  
The entire idea was absurd.  
  
Dan remembered reading somewhere that scent was the strongest of the human  
senses. His nose immediately began to play tricks on him. Instead of lightly  
floral perfume, he began to smell a heavier, musky scent that had seeped into his  
very pores years before. Sight was next: instead of Chicago's familiar  
buildings, the equally familiar mixture of the old and the new that was found in  
most large French cities began to sprout from the horizon.  
  
The shadows around him drew closer, growing darker with each inch, and his  
chest began to painfully constrict. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the  
shadows retreated and Dan realized that his problem had been that he had been so  
lost in the past that he had forgotten to breathe. He consciously took a few more  
deep breaths, feeling the band around his chest loosen with each one, the  
superimposed images and language of a faraway country fading to reveal where he  
truly was.  
  
He looked around for the officer in charge wanting, needing, to tell him who  
he was. He found the Detective easily; the man was talking to Dan's boss and  
partner, M Pearl McGuire and Zoe Busiek, respectively. M was gesturing as she  
spoke, the tone easily traveling to him though the words didn't. His partner, a  
woman who normally put her two cents in whether it was asked for or not, was  
for once silent as sad eyes scanned the area and then locked onto his  
location. Dan grimaced, automatically raising his hands, still cuffed together, to his  
face to rub his cheek, suddenly able to once again feel the heated imprint of  
her hand. The psychological remnant of her slap had haunted him at odd  
moments, much like the sarcastic-to-the-point-of-cruelty comments that it had  
culminated from.  
  
He watched as Zoe got M's attention and the large black woman immediately  
began striding towards him, followed by the quickly moving Detective and the  
slower moving form of his partner, walking closer with obvious reluctance. The  
slightly bored looking detective straightened as the group approached, and Dan  
could see his partner in crime being led to a nearby squad car.  
  
"Uncuff him."  
  
Dan cringed as M's loud demand caused quite a few people to look their way.  
One pair of eyes belonged to a woman just beginning to seat herself in a squad  
car with the assistance of the officer next to her, and her voice once again  
raised over the general din of the crime scene, this time cursing him shrilly  
even as she was gently forced into sitting down. He was suddenly aware of the  
metallic chink sounding again, this time signaling his freedom as the unhappy  
officer removed the handcuffs. He lifted his arms in front of him, rubbing his  
wrists in automatic reflex of the memories that had been stirred.  
  
He talked to both the Detective in charge and M at length, his gaze always  
returning to the still silent Zoe, before shaking his head and bowing out,  
saying that he was tired and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a  
comfortable, familiar bed. He managed to extricate himself from further questioning by  
promising to go to the station tomorrow morning and answer more questions.  
Until then, M would explain her investigator's presence as one-half of the crime  
duo.  
  
Leaving M and the Detective talking to each other, he slowly approached his  
real partner, pained eyes taking in her obvious reluctance to be near him at  
that moment. he stopped a few feet from her, employing the  
three-feet-of-personal-space rule that neither had ever been particularly hung up about before, and  
stood silent, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. "Can I get a ride,  
partner?" There was a moment of silence, and Dan was aware of being scrutinized  
during it, before the answer came.  
  
"As long as you don't complain about my driving."  
  
Dan smiled at the assent, moving closer to her before they started to the  
family friendly minivan located on the fringes of the scene, both waving their  
good-byes to M. The tension from the intensive undercover work began to loosen  
in his shoulders, and he shook his head. "But you drive too slow," he drawled  
in a mournful, mocking voice.  
  
"Only for someone who goes fifty in a thirty-five, Lead-foot Lennox."  
  
Dan grimaced at the nickname, one he'd been christened by M after receiving a  
ticket outside his partner's house. It had quickly spread to people who  
worked closely with them in the office, M often teasing him semiseriously that it  
was a good thing he could afford his car because he was never going to be  
allowed to drive a company car. "I'm not that bad," he defended himself. The  
self-righteous glare wilted as his partner merely gave him a pointed look with one  
eyebrow raised. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, shaking his head slightly as he  
gestured. "Don't go Vulcan on me," he chided. A pleased grin slipped out when his  
partner shook her head, laughing.  
  
"I definitely have got to get you home for some sleep."  
  
There was a pregnant pause as they climbed into their seats. Dan watched as  
Zoe put the key in the ignition but didn't turn it and, after a few more  
moments of uncomfortable silence, his partner turned to him.  
  
"I-I mean... to _your _home," was the rushed amendment.  
  
Dan sighed, running a hand through his short hair - on one hand wishing it  
was longer so that he could grab a handful of it and tug, on the other thankful  
it wasn't because, as exasperating as his partner normally was, he'd be bald  
by now. "Zoe," he started, only to be cut off as she turned on the car and  
peeled out of the lot. The bright lights of the scene were quickly left behind,  
only intermittent street lights, the semi-lit store lights, and headlights on  
the street, and he stayed silent, looking at his partner as she stared  
resolutely ahead with a concentration that he knew was fake. "Zoe," he began again, gra  
teful when she cut him off because he had no idea what he could say now to  
take back the harsh things said nights ago.  
  
"Don't."  
  
There was a thread of steel in her voice that almost overtaken by the  
vulnerability apparent. Dan watched silently she lifted one hand to her face in an  
angry motion.  
  
"Just... don't. Okay? I-I know that you didn't mean anything you said. I  
really do. I just - I don't want to hear anything about it. Not right now. Okay?"  
  
Dan ignored the dark scenery passing them and was watching her when she  
risked a glance in his direction. He mutely nodded, taken aback by the silver  
tracks on her cheeks, tear tracks that she had obviously tried to erase earlier.  
They pulled up to his building far too soon - Dan still unable to think of how  
to say what he needed to, and Zoe rested her hands on the steering wheel once  
she had pulled up to the sidewalk. "Would you like to come up?" He watched as  
her hands clenched the leather, her knuckles turning white in the dim lighting.  
  
"N-no. I need to get home. I've left the kids alone far too long as it is,"  
was the explanation given.  
  
Dan nodded, knowing how much she tried to be there for her sister's children.  
Of course, even with knowing that, he also knew it was just an excuse - the  
truth, yes, but also extremely convenient while she was uncomfortable around  
him. "We'll talk?" he ventured, the quiet question easily heard in the silence  
of the car, his own vulnerability easily and purposely apparent. His answer was  
a nod and another quick look.  
  
"I'll see you at the office tomorrow."  
  
Dan nodded again and climbed out of the car - standing on the sidewalk  
watching as she left before looking up at the building that had been his home for  
years. With an empty feeling inside, he shook his head and began the trek  
inside, ignoring the elevator in favor of the flights of stairs, and eventually  
arrived at his apartment. He stared blankly at the brass numbers that adorned door  
and took a deep breath, letting himself into the suddenly foreign apartment.  
  
Without bothering to turn on any lights, he took his black T-shirt off as he  
made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the refrigerator,  
before going over to the living room sofa and sitting down. Two long drinks  
later, the glass bottle was almost empty, and he looked at it before giving into  
temptation and throwing it against the opposite wall. The glass shattered,  
falling to the floor in a quiet waterfall with the dregs of his beer, the  
alcohol seeping into the pale carpeting.  
  
Without another glance toward it, he got up and made his way through the dark  
room so that he could finish his night out in the same manner he lived his  
life. Alone.  
  
-  
  
The End  
  
-  
  
This was partially in response to an opening line challenge given by Peja.  
The beginning of the line was: "The unsettling click of the cuffs..." If  
anybody would like to take up the challenge... you're welcome to! I just hope you  
post the results.  
  
-  
  
Reviews are welcome, as always!  



End file.
